He should have been yours.
You're the queen bee, right? You never lose.
And every time you bat those perfect \l\o\n\g\l\o\n\g\ lashes,
toss that beautiful, deepblack hair,
use that special sugar-coated tone,
you get everything you want.
(but not this time)
Because then she showed up—
eyes so pretty, always glittering—
like one of those k~a~l~e~i~o~s~c~o~p~e~s you used to love;
with her choppyunevenGORGEOUShair
and her moviestar father
and how are you supposed to compete with that?
But you have to, right?
You're the queen bee. You never lose.
You're DREW—Camp Half-Blood's perfectprettyprincess.
(and you're not going to let plain old Piper beat you, are you, hon?)
'Cause there are so many girls who would $$ PAY $$ to see you fall.
Just hold your beautiful head up high,
and ignore the w-h-i-s-p-e-r-s all around you,
because she's just what you said:
and someday she's going to *pop*
so you'll have what's rightfully yours.
After all, you're the queen bee. You never lose.